


Trumping in the Long Suit

by Camelittle



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Contract Bridge, Drinking Games, Drunken Shenanigans, Drunkenness, Fluff, M/M, Secret Relationship, Strip Games
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-11
Updated: 2015-07-11
Packaged: 2018-04-08 19:46:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4317501
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Camelittle/pseuds/Camelittle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>In which Merlin discovers that there's a lot more to playing Bridge than he thought.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Trumping in the Long Suit

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Drunk, Secret Relationship and Games Night squares on my Merlin Writers Tropes Bingo card. With enormous thanks to Clea2011 for the quick as a flash beta, and to Merlocked18, Arthursglisteningpecs and Deadpendragon for the cheerleading and general ~~enablement~~ encouragement.

“Come on. Off with your trousers.”

Merlin couldn’t work out how Morgana could sound so matter of fact.

“Gerremoff!” agreed Gwen.

“S’ just like Contract Whist, you said.” They were playing Forfeit Bridge, and Merlin was on his fourth forfeit--or was it the fifth? He really couldn’t remember. His head was beginning to spin. “This is nothing like Contract Whist? This’s jus’ drinking with extra humiliation.”

Bending, he tugged off his trousers, chucking them into the corner, feeling cold and exposed in only his boxer shorts, socks and t-shirt. Morgana’s cackle made his face burn.

He’d never played Bridge before, let alone Forfeit Bridge, and the alcohol wasn’t helping. Nor was his partner. Arthur. Arthur, the prat. Expert Bridge player. Gorgeous, sarcastic bastard. And, as of a couple of weeks ago, Merlin’s secret boyfriend.

Morgana’s _games night_ idea had seemed like such a good idea at the time. Apart from anything else, it meant that he could spend the evening with Arthur without anyone realising what was going on between them. They had only recently got together, and both of them wanted to keep it under wraps for now, while they worked out what it all meant.

He hadn’t bargained with Morgana, who seemed hell-bent on getting him paralytically drunk. And naked.

Mind you, he wasn’t the only one who had fallen foul of Morgana’s wiles. Take Gwen, for example.

 “Oops!” said Gwen. Her dimples popped as she giggled. “How come you’ve all still got three cards left? I’ve only got two.”

“Bum deal. Again. Who dealt these?” Arthur rolled his eyes and threw his cards down. 

“Silly me.” Gwen smiled apologetically and took a large swig of her drink, wiping the red wine stain off her lip with the back of her hand.

“It’s all right, Gwen.” Arthur seemed annoyingly sober. “If you take this forfeit, it’ll spare Merlin the shame of taking off his t-shirt and exposing his skinny chest.”

“Oi! I have a lithe and ather...athl… well toned figure! Prat.” Merlin frowned.

Arthur hadn’t been complaining about his chest that morning. He’d been enthusiastic in his praise, in fact. Feeling a pout developing, Merlin looked up and then his expression softened when his eyes met Arthur's.

“Sorry!” Arthur mouthed at him from behind his glass while Gwen wasn’t looking.

At the time, Gwen was too busy to notice this surreptitious interplay, being engaged as she was with the strap on the second of her shoes. And Morgana seemed similarly preoccupied with watching.

“Da-da!” Giggling, Gwen twirled the shoe round and then tossed it onto the rapidly increasing pile of discarded clothing.  

Morgana had devised some complex and arcane rule system which seemed to mean that Merlin got most of the forfeits. Up to this point, he still hadn’t worked out the guiding principles of the game, but it didn’t seem to matter. Not with Arthur’s foot pressed to his, underneath the table, and making periodic and very distracting inroads up his calf. It was all very confusing.

He was convinced that both Arthur and Morgana were cheating. Which was definitely why he was sitting here in only his boxer shorts, and Gwen had stripped down to her under-dress, whereas Morgana and Arthur were still fully clothed.

It was Arthur’s deal next, which apparently meant that, once they’d all looked at their hands, Arthur had to bid first.

“Two hearts.” Arthur looked up at Merlin and winked. Twice.

“Oi! I saw that! That’s tantamount to a bid! Take a forfeit!” Morgana pointed accusingly at Arthur.

Laughing, Arthur drank his wine down in one. Then he took off his shirt. Slowly. Tugging it out of his waistband first, and then undoing each button one by one. When finally he parted it, exposing pale-gold flesh and two pert, rosy nipples, buried in a nest of fuzz, Merlin couldn’t help letting out a tiny gasp.

He covered it well, though, with a subtle cough.

“Feeling all right, Merlin? Want some water for that cough?” Morgana’s eyes bored into him. Like Gimli's. Or was it gimlets?

“You’ve got dwarf eyes, Morgana” he said, with a grin, vaguely remembering a line out of a Pratchett book.

While Arthur burst out laughing, Morgana’s mouth disappeared into a disapproving line.

“Gwen, it’s your bid,”  she said.

Gwen passed, which meant it was Merlin’s turn.

“Four Hearts.” He plucked the bid out of the air, having no idea what to say.

By some bizarre turn of fate, it seemed that this was plausible. But the trouble was that when everyone else passed it meant that he had to play out the hand. And Arthur’s hand as well. Which was always going to lead to trouble. Arthur and Morgana were both free with their incomprehensible advice, which really didn’t help matters. Between barked out instructions, like _second player plays low, idiot!_  and _for heaven’s sake, why haven’t you played out your hearts?_ from his partner, and congratulatory exclamations of _Oooh! nice lead, Gwen,_ and _Well done, darling!_ from Morgana, Merlin was doomed to take another forfeit.

Sure enough, he missed the contract by a spectacular margin. 

“I can’t believe you, trumping in the long suit like that.” Arthur was fuming because apparently Merlin had mis-played all his lovely hearts.

“You make it sound like I’ve got wind.” Merlin sighed. “I din’t like those socks anyway,” he added forlornly, tugging them off and tossing them across the room.

It was his deal next. Thankfully, nobody had good enough hands to open the bidding. Although Arthur did glare at him when he realised that Merlin had had twenty-two high-card points in his hand.

“Even you had to realise that you had a monster hand, there, Merlin!” said Arthur, as Gwen swept the cards up and gave them a shuffle. “With the eight points I had in my hand, we could have been on for a slam there!”

When Arthur looked all indignant like that, it really brought out the colour of his eyes. Taking a large gulp of his Cabernet Sauvignon, Merlin paused for a moment to savour its blackcurranty flavour before plonking it down in front of him with a hiccup.

“Suits you, Arthur,” he said.

“What suits me ?”

Merlin waved his glass around, to indicate that pretty much everything suited Arthur, to be honest, but shirtlessness particularly so.

“Shirt,” he said, hoarsely, unable to make his mouth form all those words.

Maybe he had had enough to drink. But before he could put his hand over his glass, Morgana had topped them all up and was dealing out again.

“One no trump,” she said.

Frowning, Merlin tried to remember what that meant. Meanwhile, Arthur’s foot had resumed its previous explorations, climbing further and further up his bare calf and inner thigh. At the very moment when a toe started nudging at the hemline of his boxers, Merlin looked up and caught the intent expression on Arthur’s face. 

“One club,” he croaked.

“AHA! Forfeit!” Gwen and Morgana yelled in unison.

“What?”

“You can’t bid one club over one no trump, Merlin,” said Arthur in his explaining things voice. “You have to bid two of a suit over a no trump opener.”

His sly, lopsided grin and his tone of voice were the exact same ones that he’d used that morning. When, face hovering over Merlin’s cock, erect and beginning to weep, he had stated  what he was about to do to it. And then followed up on his promise. With lips and tongue and just the right amount of suck.

Of course, Arthur’s foot would choose this moment to land on his aching groin. Of course, Arthur’s toe would then describe neat circles around it

Merlin moaned, and all semblance of rational thought fled.

“Are you okay Merlin?” Gwen peered at him, seeming concerned.

Arthur’s foot withdrew. Coward.

“M’fine,” he said. “Just - a little light headed. Need the loo. Tummy ache.” Slowly getting to his feet, hunched over to disguise the tent in his shorts, he shuffled out to the toilet, holding his cards in front of him like a shield.

It must have taken him a while to will down his erection. Certainly long enough for that last shot to get through to his head. Because by the time he came back out, he was feeling giddy and light headed, and had a sudden urge to sing.

“Uh Oh! Room spin!" Steadying himself against the wall with one hand, started to sing. " _You spin me right round baby, right round!_ ”

He lurched across the corridor, bumping off the walls on his indirect path back to his room.

“ _Like a *hic* record. Babyyyyy._ ” He burst into his room, holding his cards aloft. “TWO clubs, and that’s my final wossname. Offer. Bid.” Breaking off into a peal of laughter, he spotted his bed, in the corner of the room. It was a bed that he was particularly fond of. “Bid. Bed! Bidbedbidbedbid!”

“I think he’s probably had enough, Morgana,” said Arthur.

The gravelly pull of Arthur’s voice tugged him one way, while the gravitational pull of his bed pulled him another. Torn between these two inexorable forces, Merlin tripped on his feet and landed in a heap half way between them.

“I suppose so. You’d better pick him up, then, little brother.”

Strong hands slid under his armpits and hauled him to his feet.

“My bed. Grativation.” Merlin smiled dreamily at his bed. “C’n you feel it, Arthur? The grativational pull.”

“Gravitation, Merlin. Not grativation. You really are drunk, aren’t you.” Arthur sighed. “You need to know when to say no to Morgana.”

“Not got the hang of saying no to Pendragons.” Ignoring Morgana’s snigger at these words, Merlin carried on. “Graviwossname. It’s dragging you too. Whee!” With a subtle flail of his arms, Merlin threw himself backwards onto the bed, tugging Arthur down to land on top of him. “See?”

“Merlin!” Frowning, Arthur struggled out of his grip.

“Sorry.” Remembering that their relationship was supposed to be a big secret, Merlin drew a finger across his mouth, as if zipping it up. “Mum’s the word!” There was no need for the prat to roll his eyes like that. Merlin was brilliant at keeping secrets.

“Idiot.”

Merlin knew he didn’t mean it; the fondness of Arthur’s smile was a big giveaway.

“You pretend to be such an ogre, but you’re just a big, fat, cuddly teddy bear, really, aren’t you?” he said, reaching out to form his hands into claws. “Grr! Gi’s a cuddle, bear.”

“I am not! Fat!”

Dimly, he registered a squealing noise coming from Gwen’s direction, but it was difficult to focus with the room spinning around his head like that. And Arthur’s fingers in his hair. Sighing, he turned his head into the touch and closed his eyes.

“Aren’t you going to tuck him in, little brother?”

“Mmm? This is all your fault, you know, Morgana.”

“You’re not fooling anyone, you know, Arthur. Either of you. I think you’re adorable together.”

“Likewise, Morgana. I hope the two of you will be very happy.”

"What? How did you--?"

"Oh, please. Don't think I didn't notice the way you watch everything she does, Morgs..."

The hand withdrew, and Merlin wanted to protest, but all that came out was a small, enquiring sound. A murmur of conversation was followed by quiet closing-door noises.

When Arthur came back, something cool was pressed to Merlin’s lips. He realised he’d been manhandled into a sitting position, and he lapped at the cold water at first, like a cat, before gulping it down. Then a warm shape slipped in behind him under the bed clothes.

“Just...hold me,” whispered the shape.

And he snuggled into it, content.

*END*

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